Beautiful Exception
by AwesomePsuedonymHere
Summary: Eight years after graduation Rachel's accident lands her to meet Quinn again, now also Dr. Fabray who seems to be intent on fixing broken things. Rachel's broken heart leads them to a no strings attached arrangement. But what happens when feelings start to get thrown into the mix? Male!Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except mistakes, that is. And the plot too.

* * *

The air was tense. Quinn knows that his past appeals to Rachel either went unheard or result in them having an argument. But he couldn't stand the way the brunette has taken on handling her life. He didn't realize it, but he let the tiny brunette occupy a big part of his heart.

And now it brings them back to the old auditorium of McKinley High where they first built dreams on their own. So again here they are, trying to see where the plan that destiny conceived is trying to take them. The auditorium seems relatively unchanged, but Quinn thinks of how the girl who used to spend almost every moment of her time singing there is barely recognizable now.

"Quinn?"

He was jolted from his thoughts by Rachel who was looking at him expectantly.

"What are we doing here?" The brunette questions him again.

Quinn sighs. Now or never.

"After what Finn did, I –I wanted to do something for you–"

Brown orbs widen, as though understanding a little where this meeting is headed.

"Quinn–"

He smiles at her softly, the one reserved only for Rachel ever since they were in high school. When they used to be best friends before Finn took over the diva's life. His quirked lips immediately compels the brunette to stop talking.

"Rachel, I know we've talked about this before. And I know what you're going to say before I even open my mouth." He sighs and run a hand on his short blonde hair. "But honestly, I've come to that point in my life where I just don't want anymore 'what ifs'."

The actress' eyes soften seeing pleading hazel eyes look at her intensely.

"Please, Rach. Just let me do this one time?"

Rachel takes a deep shaky breath before nodding. The smile she gets from the blonde man behind the piano is enough to make her forget what this could mean for the both of them.

Quinn starts a soft melody behind the baby grand, smooth practiced fingers gliding across. He rarely looks at the keys, spending most of his time looking at the woman who was sitting in front of him, staring intently.

His soft baritone starts.

Much as you blame yourself  
You can't be blamed for the way that you feel  
Had no example of a love  
That was even remotely real  
How can you understand  
Something that you never had  
If you let me I can help you out with all of that

Quinn looks straight into the brown irises starting to fill with recognition of the song. God, he just hopes she would let him finish the song. Because he needs to let Rachel know all the emotions that he'd so desperately tried to squash and bury. Or he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

Rachel feels like she's hyperventilating on her seat. She knows the song, albeit Quinn's version being a much slower one. She knows what's coming next. And she doesn't know if she can handle it.

Let me love you  
And I will love you  
Until you learn to love yourself  
Let me love you  
I know your trouble  
Don't be afraid, oh, I can help  
Let me love you  
And I will love you  
Until you learn to love yourself  
Let me love you  
A heart of numbness gets brought to life  
I'll take you there

The brunette closes her eyes once more, unable to look at the man in front of her who is almost begging for Rachel to let him in. She couldn't help but revere the hazel and emerald irises illuminated by the old auditorium lighting. She hears the light cracks in his voice, she remembers of the times she used to tease him about going sharp occasionally in high school. And she knows that she's the one causing it at this very moment.

I can see the pain behind your eyes  
It's been there for quite a while  
I just want to be the one to remind you  
What it is to smile  
I would like to show you  
What true love can really do

Quinn never takes his eyes off of Rachel, wanting to see her reaction. He was unable to guard himself, and over the last few months the brunette has taken a part of him that can never be given back. Or maybe he never really wanted it back to begin with. It feels crazy even to him. He is Charlie Quinn Fabray. Women weren't supposed to last with him. He wasn't supposed to be the one asking to let him love them.

But it's apparent now that Rachel Berry is an exception.

Will always be an exception. A beautiful exception.

Let me love you  
And I will love you  
until you learn to love yourself  
Let me love you  
I know your trouble  
Don't be afraid, oh, I can help  
Let me love you  
And I will love you  
Until you learn to love yourself  
Let me love you  
A heart of numbness gets brought to life  
I'll take you there

Quinn slows down with the keys under his fingers. His eyes soften once more, his voice turns into a quiet declaration meant only to be heard by the brunette sitting in front of him.

Let me love you  
And I will love you  
Until you learn to love yourself  
Let me love you  
I know your trouble  
Don't be afraid, oh, I can help

The last thing he sees are Rachel's tear streaked eyes. And then she's running out of the auditorium. Quinn grips his choppy blonde hair and drops his head to the piano keys.

"Fuck."

* * *

I hope there's some interest for this story enough for me to continue. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except mistakes, that is. And the plot too. Enjoy!

* * *

**6 months ago.**

Rachel drowned in applause at the opening night of Spring Awakening. She was exhilarated by the standing ovation and the seemingly endless whistles, catcalls, and shouts from the crowd.

Applause to live, she tells herself.

She spies Finn, her boyfriend/fiancé of almost 10 years if you don't count the times they broke up. Because those were a lot. She cringes because he doesn't look happy. They've talked about the topless scene endlessly, even had countless arguments about it. In the end, he agreed for her to take the role of Wendla, though he was still not completely sold out.

Looking at his face, Rachel knows it's going to be another long night of fighting. Though for now, Finn can take a backseat because there would be a cast party. This causes her to smile a bit easier.

They agreed that Rachel would ride with the rest of her cast mates for the party while Finn will just take a cab to meet her there. Finn arrived later than expected. By the time he did, Rachel was already tipsy and being a friendly drunk to her leading man.

Her very gay leading man.

"Rachel!" She's startled as Finn suddenly grabbed her away from her cast mate.

_Gay_ cast mate, mind you.

She faced him to demand an explanation and sees him fuming. Finn always had a bit of a temper. The short actress cowered a bit under his gaze because she knows that when he gets a little bit green in the face, there's no knowing what he'll do.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm late for just half an hour and when I arrive I see you getting friendly with _him_?" Emphasizing 'him' meaning her leading man.

"Finn, we were just congratulating each other on the success of the show. And he's _gay_." Rachel says as she tried to reason with him.

"Oh yeah? And I'm supposed to believe that?" He starts raising his voice gaining the attention of some people in the room.

"Finn, please, people are staring."

"I don't care if they're staring!" He raises his voice even more. And then adds mockingly, "Why Rachel? Am I embarrassing you?"

The actress starts rubbing her temples because of the impending headache that is Finn Hudson.

"Finn, please. It didn't mean anything. Like I said, we were just congratulating each other. And again, he's _gay_. Will you please lower your voice?"

"I don't want to lower my voice! Congratulating? Really?" Finn sneers. "Which kind? The one that ends up with you two fucking in his apartment?"

Finn really has been very jealous as of late.

With the combination of a few cocktails, a headache, and indignation from the accusation as well, it wasn't really surprising that Finn had successfully sucked Rachel's joy for the evening and managed to push her to the limit.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised when Rachel's open palm cracked hard on his cheek, the sound resounding on a room full of partying people, the majority of whom now staring openly at the couple.

Great. Now they've drawn attention to themselves.

Finn looked up in disbelief, his face red not only from Rachel's slap. His ego is bruised so Finn Hudson does what he's best at.

React. Whine. Be mad on anyone and anything but himself.

"You know what? Fuck this! We're done, Rachel! Done!"

Rachel stood still in the spot where her boyfriend, or well, ex-boyfriend left her. With a deep breath, she tries to calm herself. Because clearly, she always has to be the mature side of their relationship. Something very hard to do considering her inebriated state.

"Finn!" She frantically calls after him as she tries to work out which way was which. She hails a cab to take her back to their apartment, betting that it would be the first place he would go.

What greeted her was the sight of Finn finishing packing up a suitcase. Well. It was a sobering surprise because he never did that before. In fact neither of them did anything like that before.

Hello, can we acknowledge for a second that she's the Broadway star here? The dramatic one?

"Finn?" She asks, unsure what to make of it. "Finn come on, let's talk about this. I'm sorry about what happened."

Finn suddenly turns to her, his voice rising steadily, "There's fucking nothing to talk about! I told you not to take that damn role! It makes _me_ look like a fucking joke to my friends, Rachel!" Then Finn's suddenly in front of her, and the petite woman cowered from him not knowing how far his temper is going to take him. "It's like you're fucking some other guy every night! And that makes _me_ the laughing stock!"

Rachel wanted to point out that the world didn't revolve around him, that his friends can fuck themselves because of their non-existent appreciation of the arts. But she bites her lip, forcing herself to take deep breaths.

Because clearly, Finn Hudson along with the bunch of his idiotic friends do not understand the concept of a _role_.

"Finn, how many times do I have to tell you? We are _professionals_. We are not _fucking_. We are portraying a _role_. There is no emotional attachment when we do what we do on stage. It's simply art! And I repeat, he is _gay_. " Her voice sounding tired and defeated, because Finn Hudson must be deaf to the word 'gay'.

"I don't give a fuck about your art, Rachel! Because your art is making me look like an idiot!"

Finn's mind seemed to have come to a solitary conclusion: that Rachel's life should be spent skirting around him and him and him and him again.

"I am done with you, Rachel! Done!"

With that, his lumbering figure carried the bag out of the apartment while Rachel was still hot on his heels, trying to grab his hands. If she could just reach him, she thinks, maybe they could talk about it. Or maybe she could even compromise with him, shorten her time on the show.

Rachel Berry hasn't realized it yet, but she has always been the one to pull compromises; always the one to beg for forgiveness, giving in to whatever Finn wants, even if almost all of the time she literally had done nothing wrong. Case in point, their situation right now.

Ladies and gentlemen: Rachel Berry, Finn Hudson's personal cheerleader.

But it really doesn't matter, does it? Finn is the only one she has. Sure, there's her fathers, but they're back in Lima and she's here in New York. With Finn Hudson.

The truth that Rachel Berry fails to admit is the fact that she's lonely. So very lonely that she would chase after her jackass of a boyfriend, not even taking into consideration that he was a, well, a _jackass_ that doesn't deserve her. At all.

She manages to stumble to her car, trying to follow Finn's cab. Really she should have known better, what with all the things that happened in high school when her former best friend, Quinn Fabray, got into a car accident on his way to the Hudson-Berry nuptials. Ever since that day, Rachel always made it a point to follow all traffic regulations known to man.

Except now. Because her boyfriend was leaving her. Oh ho, no, she didn't want that. So she'd make another compromise with herself again. Saying it was the last time, just like, well, the _last time_.

It always was just one more last time with Finn Hudson.

She weaves through New York traffic, knowing at the back of her mind that she should stop because there were tingling feelings in her hands and feet caused by the alcohol. And because half the time, she is seeing a double of everything. But nonetheless she grabs her phone inside her purse—a feat really that she hadn't crashed then.

She tries calling him. 'Hi, this is Finn. Leave a–'. Fucking voicemail.

Calls aren't working so she starts typing.

With her being Rachel Berry and all, she really should have known better. It was bad enough to be texting while driving, that was like a big X blinking in neon sign with Quinn's face on it. But texting while driving _while drunk_? Fuck that! She didn't stand a chance!

What would the old Rachel Berry have said? Ah. She would have resulted into a fit complete with a long winded rant, a stomp, and a crunchy 'harrumph'. Throw in a storm out too.

But the old Rachel Berry was no more.

Ten years of Finn Hudson made sure of it.

This can't be stressed enough: she really, really should have known better. The last time someone she knew texted while driving, that someone being Quinn, he almost died, and even when he didn't, he almost became a paraplegic.

But if we look back, there was actually one good thing caused by that accident. The Hudson-Berry nuptials was suspended in the air, rescheduled indefinitely. Have been for eight years.

But going back to the original situation, Rachel really didn't stand a chance when her eye failed to catch the lights changing from yellow to red and she just kept going. That was when a bright yellow Hummer struck the driver's seat of her Audi, the airbag throwing Rachel completely to the side.

She almost didn't realize what happened. Because, really, who would? But when she saw the blood, Rachel remembers how she's always been queasy with blood. Then she saw the bright yellow Hummer splattered with some red.

Noises. Honking. People shouting.

And then the old Rachel peaks out for a second because the bright yellow Hummer staring at her upside down was almost the same color as gold stars, which are her _thing_.

Not everything that was as gold as gold stars go means a good thing, though. But in the end, there was always that golden something to make it just that much more aesthetic, even if it was only to cover up the bad.

At least she hadn't lost her appreciation for metaphors.

* * *

Yeah. So Finn is an asshole. Sur-fucking-prise. We'll see Quinn next chapter. Oh, I also got some canon-ish points from the series, like Quinn's accident and stuff. But don't worry, he never got anyone pregnant.

This might be a weekly update thing or more frequently or well...depends. Reviews, criticisms, opinions, more Finn-bashing...always welcome. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except mistakes, that is. And the plot too. Enjoy!

* * *

Quinn slung his duffel bag on his shoulders, his arms flexing on the effort. It has been a truly exhausting day in the operating theatre. In one of the rare times since he's been a resident surgeon, he's looking forward to going home.

"Clocking out Dr. Fabray?" Eileen, a petite nurse, asks Quinn.

"Yeah. I can't wait to go home." The blonde doctor smiles at the woman.

"You can't wait to go home? Well that's a first." Eileen teases him. For good reason too, because Quinn is easily one of the most workaholic residents in the hospital.

"Ha! But it's also the first time I had to try and stitch up a penis." He shudders at the thought. A man came in earlier, long story short, his girlfriend bit him as revenge. "I mean, you saw it, right? Who wouldn't want to go home after that? Shivers of horror."

Eilen just laughs at the blonde man. "I'm sure it doesn't help that the whole time you were stitching him up, you're thinking of your own jewels."

The blonde just snorted at the short statured nurse.

"No. Of course not," Quinn answers, putting on his best poker face.

The nurse just scrunches her nose and raises an eyebrow.

"What? The mighty Dr. Charlie Quinn Fabray doesn't have a date?"

While he admits that he used to be some kind of an annoyingly chivalrous prude, well, as prudish a man could get, a lot of things have changed. Women rotate around the tips of his fingers almost weekly. In the words of his friend, Santana Lopez, he has become a man whore very much like their old classmate Puck. But then again, when he started dating _a lot_, Santana just tells him, 'Fun-fucking-tastic, Q. Congratulations, you've finally pulled that stick out of your ass before Britts and I could pull it from you. Now choose a damn movie.'

He just laughs at the nurse, "Oh god. No. Not tonight. The almost severed penis put me out of the mood for at least a week."

They both chortle, trying to keep their chuckles at bay because they were still in the hospital after all.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow, Quinn."

Nurse Eileen is one of just a few people that can call him Quinn instead of Dr. Fabray in the hospital. She's one of the first people that Quinn was comfortable with, one who he actually trusts.

He just smiles at the woman and jerks his head indicating that he was leaving.

Just as he was about to go out, EMTs rush in.

"Female, car accident. Drunk driving and texting, it looks like."

"Mostly minor lacerations, but a torn metal punctured her just below the ribs."

"She looks familiar," Quinn hears someone say. Gossip hound.

Quinn just shakes his head in annoyance. Hospitals are worse than Hollywood when it comes to the rumor mill. Of course the gossip whores keep it within the hospitals or make it appear so lest they get fired for their unprofessionalism. That doesn't make it any less annoying though.

"I know her, she from that Broadway show. The famous one," Another person quips.

That caught Quinn's ears. And he found himself diverting his feet to the direction of the newly brought in patient instead of the exit. Quinn couldn't see who it was at first because it was just another busy night in the hospital and people were rushing around. But when he does, his breath hitches and he feels like he's blacking out, but in flashes.

He would recognize that face anywhere.

Before he could voice out the identity of the petite, seemingly fragile figure lying on the stretcher being wheeled by the EMTs, an onlooker says the name that seemed to have been stuck in his throat.

"That's Rachel Berry!"

And so begins the murmurs and buzzes of the gossip bees in the hospital.

He pushes, almost shoves his way to get to where Rachel was lying, seemingly lifeless. God, was this how the glee club felt back when he was the one in a car accident? Like their chest were constricting because of the uncertainty if it would be the last living image they would see of their friend.

But Quinn's situation was much worse right now. There was no one he could fall back into. He forces himself to focus. He's a resident surgeon, for fuck's sake. At least this time he can do something.

Dr. Richard Black, his supervising physician, is already beside the EMTs probably inquiring on Rachel's condition. He had his calm demeanor that couldn't be shook even by the most horrendous cases they got at the hospital. And boy, were there a lot. Case in point, the severed penis.

Just like every time Quinn Fabray feels fear, or anything remotely close to being scared, he shuts down those feelings and brings back the icy persona he was best known for. And he does again this time, because he needed himself to focus. For the first time in eight years, he sees Rachel again.

Rachel, his _former_ best friend.

Rachel, whose bloody form is lying just ten feet away from him.

He's a man on mission, turning off other facets of his emotions, at least for the time being. Because Rachel needs a doctor, not a blubbering mess.

He calmly approaches the equally calm Dr. Black.

"Dr. Black, can I scrub for this one?" He doesn't say anything else but the intensity in his voice and the urgency in his eyes must have tipped the doctor that this wasn't just another patient for Quinn.

Now, Dr. Richard Black is as professional as professional come. As a matter of fact, the moment he hears the quiet urgency in Dr. Fabray's voice, he knew that he shouldn't let the blonde doctor scrub. But Dr. Black is also a reasonable man. He knows that Quinn is one of the most, if not the most, promising resident surgeon in the hospital. Hell, the fact that Dr. Fabray is completing his residency in New York Presbyterian is proof enough that he belongs to the best of the best. But when Dr. Black took Quinn under his wing, he is still amazed of the blonde man's scary talent of being able to turn off his emotions while on the operating table.

And for this reason, he obliges.

He nods, "Alright, Dr. Fabray. Operating room one. Hurry."

The young doctor just nods his silent thanks.

But before he makes a mad dash for the operating room, he turns to the admission counter which is the root of hospital gossip. He puts on an icy glare that still works for him even after high school and marches to the still buzzing gossip hounds.

He might not have seen Rachel for eight years, but the diva had always been important to him.

The group stops immediately when he reaches them. Dr. Charlie Quinn Fabray is known as one of the strictest residents in the hospital just as he is one of the best. Oh ho ho. Dr. Fabray takes a joke every now and then, but there is a line. And everybody is always careful not to step over that line even if he's technically still only a resident. Simply put, nobody wants to incur his wrath.

"I know this must be exciting for all of you, just like every time a public figure is brought into this hospital," He starts condescendingly. "But the moment Ms. Berry has been admitted to this institution, she is covered by our confidentiality clause. I know that the news of her accident has possibly come out already, but if I found out that one of you leaked further information to the press, I will personally file the complaint against that person to the administration. Am I making myself clear?"

Murmurs of 'yes' 'understood' and quick nods met him before he turned around.

Satisfied, he steels himself away from them. It's time to be the surgeon that Rachel needs. God, he really hopes Rachel will be okay.

-000-

The operation removed a metal that punctured Rachel below the ribs, just missing her left lung. Quinn couldn't have been more thankful for steady hands. It would have devastated Rachel if any part of her was damaged that would affect her singing.

Of course there were a lot of minor lacerations, abrasions, and bruises, but all in all those were just minor injuries. Thankfully, according to Rachel's scans and x-rays, there weren't any broken bones, spinal injuries, internal bleeding, and traumatic brain injury—which, if you ask Quinn, is a fucking miracle.

He sits there, wondering what happened. Rachel was drunk, that much he was sure of. The Rachel he knew would never get behind the wheel drunk. But the respondents on the accident also say that it looked like she was texting and not paying attention to the road. That surprised Quinn more than anything. It was what got him into the same accident back when they were in high school.

"I thought you were going home?" A voice startles him from his thoughts. He looks up to see Eileen raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I was about to, but a new patient was brought in so I scrubbed," He answers simply.

The nurse just nods. Seeing Quinn in a pensive mood tells her that there's something more to it but also knew that the blonde doctor is a private person, except of course when talking about his dates. But that was another issue.

"Okay, just tell me if you need anything. I have extra pillows for you to sleep in if you'd like."

Quinn just nods at the woman in appreciation.

He just sits down at the café finishing his coffee, wondering what to do next. Rachel has been transferred to a private room just half an hour ago. Even if the brunette was still unconscious, at least Quinn knows that the woman is okay. And it's one less thing to worry about.

Not knowing what to do, he results to calling Santana. He grimaces when he realizes the time, but figured it was too late anyway as the phone on the other end has started ringing.

"This better be fucking important or I'll fucking lobotomize you with your own fucking scalpel, Q." A sleepy but still recognizably angry Latina answers the phone.

"Good evening to you too, potty mouth."

"It's one in the fucking AM, man whore, so excuse me if I'm not too excited to hear your voice."

Quinn just chuckles at his yawning friend in the background.

"I applaud the fact that you can say 'lobotomize' while half asleep."

"Whatever, ass. So are you gonna tell me why you're calling or are you gonna keep stalling this shit?"

Quinn sighs.

"San, it's—I'm calling because of—it's Rachel."

The blonde doctor hears muttered Spanish swears in the background.

"Goddamnit, Quinn! You could have warned me. Don't just spring shit on me like that! So what about—wait a minute—no, Britts it's just Q, I'll tell you about it later, go back to sleep babe." He hears the Latina shuffling, presumably to get out of the room. "So, what's this business about the midget? You've barely talked about her, Quinn. You barely even said her _name_. In _eight years_."

Quinn takes note of his friend's softer tone, and he appreciates it. The topic of Rachel is still very much a sore matter to him.

"San, I was about to go home from my shift—and, just—she was—they brought in a new patient and—" Quinn tries to compose himself once more and speaks in almost a whisper, "Santana, she was in a car accident."

"What? Fuck, is she okay?" Santana asks frantically in the background. "_Are you okay?_"

"I'm—yeah—she's okay. She's fine. I—I'm not sure yet if I'm okay. But she's gonna be fine, and that's what matters right now." Quinn rubs his temple, he was seriously starting to get a headache. "I just—I don't know what to do next? I mean, what do I tell her dads? Am I even the right person to tell her dads?" He pauses, then continues, "Do I tell _Finn_?"

He utters the name _Finn_ with so much disdain.

"Jesus, Q, try to calm down, at least she's gonna be okay. Honestly, I think you should tell her dads. I mean, she was your best friend and you were pretty close to the Berries before—" The Latina stops and sighs on the other end, not really wanting to continue _that_ sentence. "The jolly green giant on the other hand I seriously couldn't give a fuck about. But logically, you should tell him even if you don't like him. As much as I hate to say this, and I do hate that I'm saying this, he has the right to know."

Understatement of the century. Of the millennium.

Quinn Fabray doesn't only _not like_ Finn Hudson; Quinn Fabray _loathes _Finn Hudson.

Quinn lets another sigh escape him.

"Thanks, San. I guess I'll have to tell them afterall. I still have her dads' numbers but do you by any chance have Hudson's number?"

"Why the fuck would I have the giant's number?"

"Santana."

"Whatever, Fabray. I think Britts still has his number. You know how she always keeps everyone's contact info. I'll just send it to you."

"Thanks, San."

"Uh huh. Just don't wake me up again." Santana pauses on the other end, sighing, as if debating whether to say it, "And Quinn, if you need anything for you or Berry, just call me or something."

"Alright, thanks San."

"Don't mention it, man whore. Seriously, don't." With that, his friend hangs up; leaving him to call the people he needs to call.

-000-

It didn't take long for Quinn to reach Rachel's dads. Needless to say, they were very much surprised that Quinn Fabray was calling them at such an ungodly hour. But their attention quickly shifted to their injured daughter, who Quinn reassured them would be alright.

They promise to be on the next flight out to New York.

Now, onto the burden of calling _Finn Hudson_. The blonde doctor wonders why Finn hadn't been looking for Rachel, or at least trying to call her. The man child is seriously a _moron _who will never deserve his girlfriend.

He sighs one more when the phone starts to ring. And Quinn takes another deep breath when a sleepy voice greets him.

"Uh hello?"

"Finn."

"Who's this?"

"It's me, Quinn."

"Quinn?"

Quinn rolls his eyes. God, Finn Hudson the boy moron.

"Yes. Quinn. Quinn Fabray. From high school."

"Oh."

A monosyllabic moron.

"Yes. Listen, I know this is unusual, but I'm calling about Rachel."

"What does she want now?"

Quinn is taken aback by the guy's hostile tone. Maybe Finn and Rachel have broken up. But no, that can't be right. Brittany follows Rachel's career online, and even if Quinn didn't want the information, the dancer still informs him that Rachel and Finn are together.

He forces himself not to shout at Finn and calmly tries again.

"I'm calling about Rachel. She was in car accident."

Quinn expected Finn's response to be a lot of things, but he never expected Hudson to _laugh_. And Quinn loses his calm just a little bit.

"Hudson, did you not hear me? I said Rachel was in a car accident. She's in the hospital right now."

Finn just keeps chuckling in the background, "That's just low, even for you Fabray. What? Did she put you up to this? Do you really expect me to believe that she was in a car accident when I just broke up with her a few hours ago? Oh man, she must be really desperate if she came to you after eight years of no communication because she chose _me_."

Quinn's jaw clenches because he hears the arrogance in Finn's voice. And because he was right. Rachel chose her and Finn's relationship over her best friend. Because Finn _demanded_ her. How he wishes Finn was in front of him right now. Just so he could _kill_ the guy.

Before Quinn could even start speaking, he heard some rustling in the background and—wait, fucking wait a fucking minute—did he just hear a woman's giggling voice saying 'baby'? It didn't take him long to put two and two together.

And it just made him clench his fists just that much harder, wishing he can crush Finn's skull in his hand.

"Listen to me, you _son of a bitch_," The blonde man starts with a dangerously low voice. "Rachel's life is something I would never take lightly. I knew that you never deserved her even when we were in high school, and this? This just proves I was right even before. I don't give a _fuck_ that you broke up. But I give a fuck on the way you talk about _Rachel_. I give a fuck that you might be transmitting your two dollar whore's STDs to her. Never show your face to me, Hudson. You hear me, _dipshit_? Because if I see you, I will do to you what I should have done back in high school."

Quinn hangs up, his fists clenching at his sides almost shaking in anger.

He abruptly stands up to make his way to the fitness center.

He needs to punch something.

* * *

Yeah. Well. Reviews, as usual :) Oh and Finn-bashing.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except mistakes, that is. And the plot too.

Oh, and by the way, so sorry for the disappearing act. It was out of my power. I know, I owe you guys some more chapters, I'll work hard on them. On that note, enjoy this one first!

* * *

The light was streaming in the windows being reflected by white walls when Rachel came to. Her eyes fluttered shut, a groan escaping her because her body is just. Too. Damn. Sore. She tries examining her surroundings. Well, she wasn't in her own room, that much she was sure of.

And then she takes in more of her situation. An IV was attached to her, some bandages, and then the blonde man that was resting his head on her bed, well, the hospital bed.

The actress tries to get up but quickly found out that it was impossible as another cry of pain tore out from her. And the sound made the blonde man beside her stir.

As the guy lifted his sleepy face up, Rachel found out that another part of her was aching. A miniscule muscle in her chest felt like it was being pinched.

There were the familiar sharp features that had only gone sharper in eight years' time. God, _eight years_. She hadn't seen his face in eight years. His face was still a paradox. His jaw either contributes to his gorgeous charm or if he clenches them a little bit, then to a certain icy manner in him; his nose that makes him just that much sharper or that much more playful if he scrunches them just a little bit; and then there were his expressive hazel eyes, playful and serious both at the same time, yet if one were to look closely, there were something hidden behind those eyes now.

Was it sadness that she sees?

Sadness trained at her?

Quinn is the first one to recover from the bizarre morning awakening.

"Hey, Rach."

Rachel closes her eyes briefly at hearing her name again from the smooth baritone. It has been eight years since she heard her name from her best friend, _former_ best friend. And even then, they weren't uttered in joy.

And it was all her fault.

She swallows the sudden roughness in her throat.

"Charlie?"

Quinn lets out a sound between a huff and a laugh. He's only been called 'Charlie' a handful of times in the past eight years. Mostly by his mother.

"Superstar," He calls Rachel her old nickname, letting her know that the past can take a backseat. At least for the moment.

It had the desired effect as the brunette let out a sigh of relief.

"Where am I?"

"At the hospital, doofus." The blonde doctor says with a quirk of his lips, trying to get past the tension and the awkwardness.

Because, really, what do you say to your estranged best friend?

Rachel Berry catches on quickly. Because she puts on her diva face and answers him right away.

"I do not appreciate being mocked, Charlie Quinn Fabray! Of course I knew that, I was attributing to the question of which hospital am I at."

"New York Presbyterian, you were brought in last night. I—don't you remember anything?"

Rachel sighs again.

"No, I really don't. I seem to remember—," She pauses, realization seeping in. "I—I think I was in an accident?"

"Yeah, car accident," Quinn confirms.

"I—what are you—wait, shouldn't you be calling a doctor? Or a nurse? I need to be examined. I—Charlie! Is any part of me affected?" Rachel, at this point, was starting to hyperventilate. Because, Barbra, her singing! God, what if her singing was affected somehow?

Quinn couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Leave it to Rachel Berry to be this frantic when she just woke up from a car accident. He missed her. Eight years was a long time. A very long time. He tries to mask the forlorn look he knows he have in his eyes.

"Rach, relax. I am the doctor. You're alright, we did tests, and you're gonna okay. But if you want another round of tests that would be fine too."

Rachel looks at him incredulously. Not quite comprehending that Quinn is _the doctor_.

"You're the _doctor_?"

Quinn nods slowly.

"Charlie! This is not the time for jokes!"

"Why else would I be here then, Rachel?" Quinn asks sharply, unable to mask the tiny bit of bitterness in his voice.

He looks at Rachel, the diva's mouth flapping and gaping, seemingly not knowing what to say.

Well, that was right. Why else would Charlie be in her room? They hadn't seen each other in a long time. And it was because Rachel pushed him away. That was the resounding thought in the room that neither of them wanted to voice out.

They both knew it. They just didn't want to speak of it.

Rachel then notices his white coat with New York Presbyterian embroidered on it, the stethoscope around his neck, and the silver plate emblazoned 'Dr. Fabray'.

"Dr. Fabray," The brunette whispers, still in shock.

Quinn just remains silent, not wanting to add to his previous outburst.

"I—what—I mean how? When did—just how did—when—why?" Rachel's face was bewildered as she uttered those string of words.

The blonde man just shrugs, not really offering any answer.

"I—the last time we saw each other—," The petite woman abruptly stops at her sentence. They were making so much progress at being _not awkward_. And she just had to burst out that fact.

That unwanted sentence.

Rachel composes herself once more and softly says, "I thought you were taking drama at Yale."

Quinn, for the most part, is done skirting around the topic. He just finished his 36 hour shift _barely_ 12 hours ago. He also almost never got any sleep. On top of that, he just saw Rachel again after eight fucking years of silence, he had to call Rachel's dads also after eight fucking years of silence, and he had to call and talk to Finn fucking Hudson also after eight fucking years though the silence on the giant's part was very much appreciated.

To say that the night was stressful would be an understatement.

So excuse him if he's not really that patient while Rachel plays 'catch up'.

"Yeah. I thought so too. I thought I was going to take drama at Yale. But guess what? I realized it felt just that much closer to you. And I can't. You know what else I thought of, Rachel? I thought being your _best friend_ warranted some kind of communication. I thought it made me—us, somewhat important. But guess what, Rachel? I thought wrong. We both did."

Quinn sees Rachel's lips quiver and her eyes glisten. He berates himself for not being able to control his words. He really didn't want to be _Quinn_ to Rachel, because even if the woman was admittedly mostly at fault, he also knew that she needed him to be her _Charlie_ right now.

_Rachel's Charlie._

He rubs his face and lets out a deep breath before addressing Rachel again.

"I'm sorry."

Rachel just tries to quiet her escaping sobs.

Quinn lets go of a deep breath.

"Look, I'm sorry," He says, running his hand on his blonde hair. "I'm just really tired, I didn't mean to burst like that."

"No, I guess I deserved that," Rachel answers still trying to discreetly wipe the tears that were spilling from her eyes, though it was very obvious that she was crying. "I just have no idea where to begin. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Quinn just remains silent, trying to organize his thoughts.

The silence in the room was deafening. The only thing that could be heard was Rachel trying to desperately quell her sobs. Eight years was proving to be too much tension in the room.

Quinn lets goof another deep breath.

"Hey," He tries to console her. "You're sorry, I'm sorry, and we'll just—we'll just leave it at that for now, okay?"

Rachel nods her head while the tears kept coming and the sobs filled her room.

Quinn groans, berating himself silently for not being able to control his words. The woman was just in a car accident. Even if she sort of deserved it, this wasn't the time nor the place to let those words out.

And Quinn realizes now, that even after eight years, Rachel Berry is still his weakness. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat that tasted like the past, tries to ignore that thorn on his chest that was driving him to more pain.

Because it's _Rachel_.

"How about we have a do over?" He pauses at his own words, feeling their weight in his chest. "Let's forget those last few minutes. At least for now. And we'll work our way from there."

Rachel started nodding, but was still crying.

Well.

Quinn tries again.

"Please tell me you're okay with that, Superstar?" He utters the old nickname and tries so hard for his voice not to crack. They hadn't been Charlie and Superstar for so long.

Rachel lets out a more enthusiastic flurry of nods.

"Hey, stop crying. This time you actually have to listen to me, I'm your doctor. And I know this will bad for you. You were just operated on," Quinn gently lifts Rachel's hands from her face and wipes the tears. "Shh, Rach, I'm still right here, okay?"

"O-Okay," Rachel answers.

"Just okay?" He smiles encouragingly.

"Wonderful, excellent, outstanding."

The blonde doctor beams when Rachel finally lets out a smile.

Their moment was interrupted abruptly when they heard frantic voices just outside Rachel's room.

"Sir, you can't go in there. Visiting hours—"

"We don't care about your visiting hours, lady. We just had a very stressful flight from Ohio and a particularly not nice cab ride. We want to see our daughter. And if you even think of getting in the way of that, I will set the ACLU on your ass."

Quinn's lips quirked in amusement as he watched Rachel's chestnut orbs swirl with the same glee.

"I should probably go save that poor nurse now, huh?" The blonde doctor says with a mischievous smile on his lips.

The brunette looks at him entirely wide-eyed with barely contained mirth.

"You should. Daddy is always never above calling the ACLU."

Quinn just exits the room with a fond shake of his head.

Rachel barely had the time to think about her current predicament when she was greeted by the sight of her Dad and Daddy.

"Rachelah!"

Suddenly she found herself a handful of her Daddy, Leroy Berry, as he carefully navigated through her bruises.

"Oh, baby girl, what happened to you?" He tearfully asks, caressing her cheek.

She realized at the moment how much she missed her Daddy's over-the-top worrying.

"Daddy, I'm perfectly alright. This is all just minor injuries."

She caught Quinn's eye and he quickly understood that Rachel didn't want her fathers to know the worst parts of her accident. The doctor nods almost imperceptibly.

"Alright? Rachel Barbra Berry, you're in a hospital bed!"

Her Dad, Hiram Berry, decides to save her from her Daddy's worse-than-her dramatics.

"Lee, give her some time to breathe," He carefully manoeuvers the blubbering man from his daughter's bedside. "I trust Quinn. And besides, he did just tell us that Rachel's going to be alright."

Leroy looks at the blonde man who was leaning on the wall for reassurance.

"Yes, sir, Rachel's going to be alright. I ordered tests and scans for before she was brought to this room and they came back fine." He smiles kindly at the men who he also considered his fathers before Finn Hudson's trivialities drove them apart. "But if it will help placate you, we can do another round of tests before Rachel's discharged. But as of now, I can tell you confidently that she's more than fine."

"When is she going to be discharged?" Hiram asks.

"She should be good to go tomorrow morning."

"Hear that, Daddy? I'm spectacular, really. You can stop worrying now." Rachel says from her bed.

"Alright, alright," Leroy raises his arms to concede. "Can't blame your old man for trying. And Quinn, how many times do I have to tell you, it's Leroy. It will always be Leroy and Hiram to you, young man."

Quinn just grins happily in his corner of the room.

-000-

Quinn later finds himself at the backroom, catching on his much needed sleep. He woke up with a start, asking himself if the last—he glances at his watch—okay, 48 hours, actually happened. When he sees Hiram Berry on the cot opposite to him, he realizes that no, he didn't have a long ass dream where shit hit the fan.

It was all real.

Wonderful.

"Surreal, huh?" The tall man asks before handing him a cup of coffee which he accepts gratefully. "That nurse named Eileen directed me here."

"Yeah," He stares at the cup and shakes his head, "Eight years."

"Rachel's been asking about Finn. We didn't know how to answer her, he's been MIA."

Hiram also utters the name _Finn_ with so much disdain.

Quinn immediately tenses from his slouch. His instincts told him to protect Rachel's feelings at all costs. He knew why Finn wasn't in the hospital. He knew. Quinn was just not sure if he was ready to let Rachel in on it too.

The shift on his mood didn't go unnoticed to Hiram.

"What is it?"

Quinn looked at the man before him. He and Hiram always had a weird understanding even when he was still a child. The man always caught on his moods, and was always ready to give a fatherly advice both solicited and unsolicited ones.

He debates whether he should tell Hiram.

"I—nothing." Quinn says abruptly, unsure if it was the right time to tell the man in front of him. A lot has changed.

"Quinn, you do realize that I am a psychiatrist, and that I'm not so far behind the stubbornness department when I want to be," The older man's eyes soften, "You can always tell me."

Quinn gives in. Hiram has a point.

"I—well, I called him, to let him know. He thought it was a ploy to get him back. Apparently, he and Rachel broke up only hours ago."

"I don't know if I should be happy that they broke up or mad that he was that conceited," Hiram laughs, trying to make light of the situation.

"I think you'd be mad, because that's not all, really."

The older doctor looks at Quinn expectantly.

"Well?"

"I heard a woman in the background, and Hiram, there's no doubt about it, he was with another woman..." Quinn trails off.

"Son of a bitch."

"I don't know if it's a one time thing or if it was going on for…" He trails off again, because really, how do you even finish that sentence?

They both brood in their cots, thinking of ways how to kill Finn Hudson. Kidding, but not really.

It was Hiram who breaks the silence.

"Rachel doesn't need this right now, but if it came to it, you should be the one to tell her."

Quinn nods resolutely, "Of course.

* * *

Well. Reviews are always welcome. I'll get back on working on those chapters that I owe you guys.


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